


Pale Heart Past and Present

by justwanderingneverlost



Series: Under A Pale Heart [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, I marked it explicit because it might get there and the original is, You're gonna need to read Under a Pale Heart to understand things, bartender Dany, boxer Jon, just wanted to be safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/pseuds/justwanderingneverlost
Summary: Snippets here and there from my Pale Heart beans. Some past and some present, and most from Dany's pov.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Under A Pale Heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158980
Comments: 22
Kudos: 69





	1. Only Chains and Broken Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Hi peeps! I've decided to move the snippets I've done for anon asks over on tumblr and post them over here. Most of these are going to be from Dany's pov, just glimpses of scenes through her eyes, some that we've seen through Jon's and others we haven't. I'm going to start us off with one from Jon's past at The Wall, whether we'll hear more from him later on I'm not sure. I'll probably do all I can to put everything I want from him in the actual fic. Either way, I hope those of you who haven't seen them already enjoy. If you have already and read again, thanks so much!!

“Why do you read that stuff?”

Jon ignored the question. Finished reading his paragraph first before slipping his finger between the pages to hold his place and closed the book, holding it in his hand. His gaze finally flicked to Satin who sat slumped in his chair across the table. Pretty and pouty. 

He managed to suppress a sigh as he narrowed his eyes at him. “It’s a book. What else am I supposed to do with it? Wipe my arse?”

Sam sniggered at the other end of the table, his nose in his own book. Satin sneered at them both and gave Jon a sassy toss of his head. Same as he always did when Jon smarted off at him. Which was often. It's what they did. Satin prodded. Jon snapped or snarled. And on and on it went. Day after day.

It reminded him far too much of him and Ygritte. Almost as if she'd come to visit him. Had possessed Satin somehow, intent on haunting him like she’d promised. He tried not to think about it too much, but he was certain it was why he’d made it his job to protect him. He wouldn't fail her a second time. 

“There's better books to read, is all I meant, you arse,” Satin bit back. “Those awful westerns are even better than this depressing shit,” he said, as his hand shot out and snatched the book from Jon’s. 

Teeth gritted, he clenched his fist to keep himself from reaching over and smacking him.

_“Sleep is the most innocent creature there is and a sleepless man the most guilty,”_ Satin read off the back cover in a mockingly melancholic tone. _“I’ve spent all my life resisting the desire to end it.”_

He gave a disgusted groan and tossed the book back at him. “It’s no wonder you're so damn broody all the time. Read something happy for once.“ He shoved his thin fingers through his oily black hair and blew out a huff as he crossed his skinny arms over his chest. “Or don't read at all and go watch the movie with everyone else.”

And there it was. He was bored with his bodyguard’s extracurriculars. “I _like_ to read this depressing shit,” Jon managed in a somewhat level voice. “And you only want me to go watch a movie so _you_ can.”

Satin flinched as if Jon had hit him, hurt and anger flashing in his eyes. “Yeah, so what? Is it so wrong to want to find some kind of happiness in this hell hole? To fucking laugh every once in awhile, or even smile? Somebody needs to, you sure a shit never do.”

He shifted forward in his chair, leaned over on his crossed arms and glared back at him. “Tell me what the fuck I have to smile about, Satin. I’ve got five years left in this fuckin’ place. Five years of fightin’ for em. Beatin’ the shit out people and gettin’ the shit beat outta me. Tryin’ to save your asses from em all the time. And then what? If I even make it long enough to get out of here my entire family's either already dead or lost to me. Nobody's waitin’ for me out there.” 

Sam’s chair creaked. Satin’s eyes had long since fell to the table top. He was dumping his shit on them, but he couldn't find it in himself to care just then. 

“I don't have a reason to be happy, or to laugh, or to even fuckin’ smile, Satin. If you wanna be happy, fine. I'm not stoppin’ ya. Go watch your movie if ya want. Take care of yourself for a change. Just get off my arse.”

As expected, Satin didn't take his scolding well. He was up and out of his chair, slinging it back under the table the moment Jon finished. “I never asked you to take care of me, Jon. You took me and all the rest of us on all on your own. You can stop anytime you want.”

He was out the door with that, leaving Jon and Sam alone. They sat in silence for several minutes, neither moving. Guilt ate away at Jon’s gut. He’d let his anger get the best of him as he always did. 

He got up and dropped his book beside Sam. “Put that up for me if you don't mind.”

“All that fussing and you're going anyway?”

“If they get ahold of him I’ll never forgive myself,” he muttered and headed for the door. For whatever reason he had a sudden urge to confess. Or maybe he just wanted someone else to know in case things went wrong. He stopped in the doorway, glanced back. “I’m going to the Warden.”

Sam whirled around, his eyes nearly popping from his head. _“What?_ Jon, no. You can't.”

“I can, and I’m going to. I can't watch all of you. It's only a matter of time before I’m not where I need to be.”

“Jon, I know Satin was pissed off, but he was right…” Sam tried, getting up and coming to him. “It's not your job to take care of us. You matter too. If you go to the Warden—” 

“They’ll kill me?” he finished for him. Sam just stared at him, his round face twisted with pain. Jon blew it off, shook his head at him. “They've been trying for years, Sam. They hope every time they put me in the ring I'll die. But I'm still here, ain't I?”

His friend smiled. It was weak and wobbly, but it was still there and that was enough. Jon smacked him on the arm and walked off before he saw the truth. 

He’d go to the Warden. And they would come for him. 

Exactly like he wanted them to.


	2. Could Be a Nail in My Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany gets her first glimpse of her new bouncer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's our first pov from Dany, enjoy!

She was trying to be nonchalant with her questions. To not let on how little she knew. How nervous she was to have a stranger dumped in her lap to spend endless hours alone with. She didn't need Gendry going to Grey who would definitely go to Missy who would then undoubtedly come back to her worried sick. It was best none of them knew. 

“So what's he like?” she asked, only to turn around and see for herself. 

_ Godsdamnit.  _

He was cute. 

_ No,  _ cute wasn't the right word. Or the only word anyway. Though it did fit the way he was staring at her just then; like he’d lost every ounce of wits he’d ever had. But she was used to that. It was one of the many stares she got on the regular. 

She took advantage of it. Took the time it gave her to really take him in. He wasn't a huge, ugly brute with a neck as thick as her thigh like she’d expected. She'd felt sure Vis would hire someone who would remind her of less pleasant times. Her brother was nothing if not malicious. 

But Jon Snow didn't remind her of anyone with his compact stature, pale skin, soft, sweet face, and head covered in curls. It immediately made her suspicious of Vis’ motives.

“There he is,” Gendry piped up. “Dany, meet Jon. Your new bouncer.”

Her eyes had never left him, saw his own dark ones light with panic the moment Gendry introduced him. Saw his pulse jumping in his throat. She hadn't expected him, but Jon hadn't expected her either. 

She'd rather have the upper hand, but she’d take equal footing. 

She made her way towards him, unable to keep a small smile from tugging at her lips at his awkwardness, or her eyes from slowly sliding down his body and back up. He wasn't scrawny any more than he was brutish. Not in the least. His tight t-shirt and tighter jeans did nothing to hide the firm stacks of muscle beneath them. Jon Snow was  _ very _ well put together. It almost made her angry how well. “Nice to meet you, Jon,” she said, trying not to sound as affected as she was. 

He swallowed hard and gave her a nod, licking his full, pouty lips. “You too, Miss.”

She wasn't able to contain her smile completely. Respect wasn't something she often got.

“Dany's fine,” she assured him with a small shake of her head, “since I hear we’re going to be working together.”

Jon cleared his throat and dropped his head, his duffle’s nylon handles suddenly interesting.  _ Did he have to be gorgeous and adorably shy? _ “That's what they told me. Do ah… Do you need me here now?” he asked, breathless, his accent thick and rough. Northern, for sure.

_ What was he doing all the way down here?  _

He winced, obviously irritated with himself and drew in a slow drag of air before meeting her eyes again. “He said four o’clock, but I can stay.” 

A snort of laughter had them both looking behind her. Gendry was grinning like a nutter at Jon. She shot him a glare and turned back to Jon, shaking her head again.

His eyes caught the movement and swung back to her. Her chest specifically.  _ Figured. They never could help themselves.  _

“Four’s fine,” she told him, perhaps a bit too sharp. “I was only coming by to pick up something I left.” She took a few steps closer, drew her shoulders back and straightened her spine as she leaned a hip against the end of the bar. Crossed her arms over her chest to block his view. 

Dark eyes flicked to hers, wide and remorseful.  _ Were they grey?  _ She'd look closer later, for now she was content to enjoy his frustration and flushed cheeks.

“But if you want…” She lifted her eyebrows, swiped her tongue out to wet her lips just to tease him, “you can come back around three, or half after. I can fill you in on things before we open.” 

An odd sort of grunting noise left him and he gave a jerky nod. It took all she had to keep a straight face. He was going to be fun to poke and prod. She'd just have to be careful and keep her walls up. Having someone else to look after wasn't part of the plan. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” Gendry piped up overly loud, walking over and slinging an arm around Jon’s shoulders like they’d been best mates for years. Jon glared at him and she bit back most of her smile. “We're late to pick up Grey. Gonna grab some food and then take Jon here to buy him a bike.”

She shouldn't still be staring at him, but she couldn't seem to help herself. As put out with herself as she was watching him squirming under her gaze was far too satisfying. “Sounds like a good time,” she said smoothly and turned a brighter smile Gendry's way. “Have fun and tell Grey I said hi.”

“We will!” Gendry hollered out and spun Jon around and pushed him towards the back. 

She waited until she heard Gendry's car pull away before she made her way to the office and turned on the computer. Vis might want her in the dark, but she had no intentions of staying that way. 


	3. I'm on My Way to Believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some soft and sweet at the end of their first weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene picks up at the end of chapter eight.

  


“Let's play favorites.”

He gave her an adorably pained look. “What?”

They were still in his bed. Hiding under the sheets, skin to skin, having done nothing but hold one another for an hour, or maybe three. Whispers. Soft touches. Kisses. Looks and laughs.

She'd have to go home soon and they’d made an unspoken pact to ignore the ticking clock as long as they could. Neither eager for the fragile haven they’d found in one another to end. 

It wouldn't end. She wouldn't let it. 

They may have to go their separate ways for a few hours here and there, but what she felt, what she was certain Jon felt as well… She had no intention of letting it out of her grasp. 

She smiled softly at him and smoothed the wrinkle from his brow. “You know, like… Favorite color, favorite food. Stuff like that.”

“Oh.” The furrow returned, deeper than before. 

She cursed herself. She kept forgetting how much time he’d lost, all the things he’d missed. “We don't have to if—”

He shook his head and nuzzled into her hair. “It’s okay. You go first.”

“You sure?” He nodded, a soothing hand running over her thigh. He couldn't seem to stop touching her any more than she could him. She snuggled into him deeper, mapping the dips and curves of his arm. “Color’s easiest, let's do that first.”

“You gonna tell me or do I gotta guess?” he whispered. She could feel him grinning against the top of her head.

That hadn't been the plan, but… “Guess.”

“Red.”

She huffed and pulled away. “How’d you know that?”

Looking as pleased as the Cheshire Cat, he shrugged. “It was that or black, you wear both, a lot.”

She rolled her eyes. “I guess. I know what yours is too,” she sassed. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Black.”

He gave a soft chuff of laughter. “Good guess.” 

“You look good in black. Makes your eyes even prettier,” she declared, brushing back his curls. He snarled at her and she couldn't help but laugh. “You’re just going to have to deal with it. You're pretty, and beautiful, and hot…”

“Okay, okay, enough,” he quarreled and pulled her back against him. “Favorite food.”

“Anything with cheese.”

“That's cheatin’.”

“How is it cheating?” she laughed. “Cheese is a food.”

“I suppose, but I meant a meal. Mine’s tacos.”

She hummed, eyes falling closed, just the thought of warm, spicy tacos making her mouth water. “Gods, I haven't had a good taco in ages.”

“Yeah, I know that feelin’.”

Her eyes flicked to his again. “You want some?”

He looked like a kid at Christmas, hanging onto the edge of hope, but braced for disappointment. “Right now?”

Even if it had been in the wee hours of the morning she would've found him some tacos, or went on a quest to make him some herself. He wouldn't be going without food anymore. And especially not his favorites. She’d feed him till she popped or got sick of them one. 

She had to kiss him before she could answer. Hold him just a bit tighter too. “We haven't had dinner and there's a place not far from here,” she told him. “They deliver too.”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned.

With a laugh and a full heart, she rolled away and dug out from beneath the sheets, quickly finding her phone in her discarded jeans before settling back beside him and bringing her browser up. Jon’s index finger traced the edge of her panties, following the swirls in the lace as he watched her scroll and tap.

“What's your favorite movie?” he mumbled.

“Almost Famous. You know that one?”

His hand spread across her pelvis, slowly sliding back and forth, hip bone to hip bone. “Yeah, with Penny Lane, right?”

She cut him a playful look. “Of course, that's who you remember,” she teased.

“I remember the kid too,” he protested, “just not his name.” His pretty face twisted in thought. _“Russell?”_

“Nope, that’s the guy in the band Penny loves for over half the movie. The kid’s name is William.”

“Ah.”

Doing her best to ignore the heat his hand was stirring within her belly, she scrolled through the menu and ordered for herself before adding his. “Hard or soft?”

His head jerked up. “What?”

“Your tacos, silly.”

“Oh… Umm, both.”

“Four of each?”

He pulled a face. “Two’s enough, I don't wanna run anymore than I’ll already have to in the mornin’. I fuckin’ hate runnin’,” he grumbled.

She bit back a grin and ordered him four of each anyway, he could save the extras for later. She’d hide them in the fridge when he wasn't looking. _Who didn't love finding leftovers?_

Their order done, she tossed the phone to the foot of the bed and reached for his tormenting hand before rolling toward him. She kissed his palm and let his hand go. Running her own up his ribs and around to his back.

His slid across her cheek and into her hair just as she knew it would. He held her gaze for a while before finally looking away, watching his fingers as they played with her hair. He licked his lips. Swallowed too. “William loved Penny,” he said, in a quiet husk. 

Her heart wanted to burst, to hold onto the hope he’d meant something more with his simple statement. She knew it was too soon, too scary for him, or her, to admit such things. That immeasurable emotion hadn't been kind to either of them. She thought they could change that if they were careful. If they treated each other's hearts kind. If fate would finally see fit to give them peace, and maybe some happiness too. 

She bit into her lip to control her wobbly smile as she slid her hand over his shoulder and down his jaw. “Yeah, he did.” 

“Why’s it your favorite?” he asked, wide grey eyes coming back to hers. 

The answer was one she knew well and it slipped easily off her tongue. “Because, they all figured out who they were by the end, and what was important. Especially Penny. She was… Sad and happy and beautiful and such a fucking mess, but she left that mess behind, and the sadness too and kept the best parts of herself.”

Penny's story hadn't been hers, nor vice versa, but there were enough similarities Dany couldn't help but feel a kinship to the character. 

Jon was deep in thought, back to watching his fingers which were tracing over her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. 

“What's your favorite?” she whispered, drawing him back to her. 

He frowned. “I don't know if I can pick just one.”

“Why not?” 

“We didn't have regular TV when I was a kid. Dad was too cheap.”

She laughed at that. 

Jon rolled his eyes. “He was. All we had was a dvd player, but we had a shit ton of movies. Most of them old ones we could pick up for next to nothing. We watched ‘em over and over.” A soft smile tugged at his lips. “I could probably say ‘em line for line if I got to see any of them again.”

Wanting to keep him smiling and mostly in the present she lightly scraped her nails up his stomach, laughing as his abs clenched and he gave a grunt, grabbing her hand and scowling at her. “Which one did you pick to watch the most?”

“Probably Stand By Me, or maybe The Outsiders.” 

“Oh, I know those. You have good taste,” she offered with a kiss. “Were you Gordie, Chris, Teddy, or Vern?”

He chuffed, his thick lashes laying against his cheeks as he avoided her gaze again. “Probably some of all four.”

Giving it some thought she couldn't argue with that assessment. “Alright, Johnny or Ponyboy?”

He was back to scowling again. “I don't know.”

“I do.” He didn't look convinced at all. She grinned and gave him another soft kiss. “Johnny.”

He snorted. “Was it the name or his dark hair and eyes that convinced you?”

“Neither.”

“Then why?” he asked, rolling them over to lay between her thighs. 

They had changed positions a dozen different times so he wasn't quite the delicious distraction he’d been the first time he’d put himself over her. But she still wasn't able to keep her hands to herself, running them down his face and chest. “Would you run into a burning building to save me if you thought you might not make it out?”

“I wouldn't stand still long enough to think about whether I would or not.”

She smiled and pulled his lips down to hers. “That's why.”

  
  



End file.
